The commonest phenomena in life are (a) oar proneness to take things for granted—to repeat catchwords and shibboleths without thought or reflection, and (b) our blank ignorance of things which we have grown up to regard as most intimate and familiar. Certain names in literature (Shakespeare, for instance) or in music (say Tallis and Byrd) are so constantly on our lips that they have become what we term “Household Words.” But it does not always follow that we are as familiar with the works of such authors as we are with their names. Tallis and Byrd are known to us by only a few of their works, and those not necessarily their best. Merbecke, too, has suffered through becoming a “Household Word”; he has shared the fate of Tallis, Whyte, and Byrd, in being known only by his least distinguished work. No satisfactory biography of him has as yet been compiled. Beyond a short extract in Barney's “History of Music,” and a carol, given in Hawkins' “History of Music,” and republished by the Walter Scott Co., none of his part music has seen the light of print; and any critical examination of him as a composer of polyphonic music has not been attempted. If I ask you, therefore, to bear with me while I set down a “plain, unvarnished tale,” it is chiefly because I should like to share with you a more intimate acquaintance with an unjustly neglected composer, and also that we may try and arrive at some critical understanding of his music, and see it in clearer perspective.